“Maybe closure’s not in the cards for me,” I said softly. “She told me to let her go.” I spun away from him. I hadn’t had a moment’s peace in months. I hadn’t been alone in months. And, right now, I wanted to be alone.

“But you haven’t let her go, Tyler!” he exclaimed, catching up to me. Grabbing my arm, he forced me to stop. “You left to give her space. Three months is a long time to give someone space. Just…” He took a deep breath. “Just think about it and stop punishing yourself. This Tyler…” He gestured to me. “This is not the Tyler I remember. The old Tyler would have fought tooth-and-nail for what he believed in. He wouldn’t stand by and allow his brother to order him to stay thousands of miles away, instead of going after the one girl who finally taught you how to be human again.”

I sighed. “Carrying my guilt is the only thing that reminds me I’m human,” I admitted. “Without it, I’m empty. I’m nothing. I need the guilt. It’s the only way I can live with the lonely.”

Mackenzie

MY BRAIN WAS SPINNING as I flipped through page after page of a pregnancy book, the words starting to blur together. Since learning I was pregnant nearly two months ago, I got my hands on every book possible, hoping that, with a little bit of guidance, I would be able to get through this on my own. It didn’t help. I felt even more lost and confused about how to raise a little human.

I had put on a smile to assure Brayden and Jenna I was handling it, but the truth was, I was scared out of my mind. Cloth or disposable diapers? Bottle feed or breast feed? I was overwhelmed by the amount of books and advice, most of it contradictory. I felt like a fish swimming upstream, everyone else passing by, telling me what was best.

The stack of overdue bills had gradually grown higher and higher as I struggled to rub two pennies together. Every dime went to paying for the bare minimum of doctor appointments I could get away with. I was two months behind on my mortgage, my credit cards were maxed out, and my checking account balance was teetering on being overdrawn on a weekly basis. Jenna and Brayden had offered to help me out countless times, but I refused. I took after my father in that respect. I inherited his Irish stubbornness.

A loud knock on the door sounded, startling me, and I tore my attention away from one of the dozens of pregnancy books Brayden had picked up for me. Raising myself from my lush sofa, I walked through the living area and into the foyer of my ocean-front condo. I checked the peephole to see a man dressed in a messenger uniform standing there. I pulled back the door, praying it wasn’t the bank sending notice of foreclosure on my condo. Surely, I’d have to have missed more than two payments, right?

“Mackenzie Delano?” the stout man asked, eyeing the envelope in his hand.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Sign here, please.” He handed me his scanner and I scribbled on the screen.

“Have a good day, ma’am.” He gave me the envelope and I retreated into my condo, plopping down at my kitchen table. I nearly threw the envelope on top of the large pile of unopened bills, but stopped myself.

Intrigued as to the contents, I tore at the tab, letting out a long breath when I saw it wasn’t from the bank…or a bill.

As I read the typed letter accompanying a church bulletin, guilt overwhelmed me for having ignored the only family I had left during the past several months.

Dearest Mackenzie,

I hope this letter finds you well. Many days have passed without your attendance at any of our services, including those which have been said to honor your mother. Even though years have gone since her passing, I understand the wound may never heal. But don’t carry the burden alone. Allow others to help shoulder it. We have set a celebration of your mother’s life at Monday evening mass this coming week. I do hope you will choose to honor her memory, as she so rightly deserves.

Peace be with you, child.

Father Baldwin

Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known. Jeremiah 33:3

I placed the letter on the table and opened the church program, noting a mass to be said in my mother’s memory on the day specified in my father’s letter. I had purposefully not shown up at each of our pre-arranged meetings over the past few months. I was angry at my father for getting himself into whatever mess he was in. I was angry at my mother for knowing what happened and keeping it from me. I was angry at Tyler for using me to get to my father. But I was mostly angry at myself, if for no other reason than I knew my anger toward other people wouldn’t make me feel better.

As my eyes remained glued to the postscript of the letter, I felt something I hadn’t in months. Hope. It could have meant nothing, but a small part of me believed my long-term absence from the church made my father reconsider shielding me from the truth of what was going on. I prayed he would come clean with all the secrets so we could go back to having a normal father-daughter relationship…or as normal a relationship as we could.

Folding the letter and bulletin, I hid them in one of my kitchen drawers and spied the time. I groaned, not really feeling like going to our traditional Friday evening girls’ night, but I couldn’t break from my routine. The last time I strayed from the normalcy of my life, I ended up heartbroken. I needed to find comfort in my routine once more, regardless of how tempting curling up in my bed sounded at the moment.

I made my way down the hallway toward my decent-sized master bedroom, then stripped off the yoga pants and tank top I had put on when I got home from work earlier. June had come and gone too quickly for my liking. It was now the middle of July and I was seventeen weeks pregnant. It seemed as if my stomach had grown overnight. What was just a small bump last week was now more pronounced. My small and slender frame made it even more noticeable, and I knew I couldn’t cover it up much longer.

Turning on the shower, I allowed the hot water to wash over me, cleansing me of everything as I tried to clear my mind. All the books I’d been reading told me to maintain a low stress level so my baby didn’t become stressed. I couldn’t help but think he or she had nothing to be stressed about…no paying bills, running a restaurant, or finding the father of the kid growing inside you. Brayden was right. Tyler needed to know. I just worried he would want to be a part of my baby’s life, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that because that would make him part of my life. I was certain I didn’t want that. That was what I tried to convince myself anyway.

After an invigorating shower, I headed toward my closet and picked out a long maxi dress that was tight around my chest, then flowed to my ankles. It was comfortable and hid my stomach. I towel dried my hair and placed a touch of gel in it to tame the waves. Putting a bit of powder on my dark complexion, I then added a hint of blush and some dark eyeliner, giving my hazel eyes a dramatic feel. After applying some pink gloss to my lips, I stepped back and surveyed my five-foot, four-inch frame, satisfied I didn’t look how I felt…

Shattered.

Broken.

Lost.

Putting on a smile that masked my true feelings, I rushed down the hallway and was met by a chubby gray cat meowing at me. “Ready for dinner, your majesty?” I asked Meatball. He rubbed against my leg, purring in appreciation. “Okay. Let’s get you fed.”